


Serene

by ianavi



Series: I have your permission? [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU - John is a scientist, AU - Sherlock is a scientist, Aftercare, Dom!Sherlock, Hand Feeding, Light BDSM, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Providing comfort, Relationship Negotiation, Sub!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianavi/pseuds/ianavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serene. A deep, deep breath and Sherlock exhaled with a smile. Holding up a perfect sphere of clear ice to the light of the kitchen window he felt serene, in control, and just a bit excited.</p><p>---</p><p>Read the tags...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serene

Serene. A deep, deep breath and Sherlock exhaled with a smile. Holding up a perfect sphere of clear ice to the light of the kitchen window he felt serene, in control, and just a bit excited.

He had planned everything, prepared everything and only had to wait a short while now before John would arrive.

He sighed. Underneath it all, pure lust was eating away at his calm. And not only that, but the much more than that he kept at bay for now, unacknowledged, or just barely so.

John had agreed to stay the weekend. With an understanding they'd share several sessions. With an understanding a separate bedroom was available to John if he wished to rest on his own.

He slowly pushed the sphere of ice past his lips and allowed it to chill his tongue before closing his eyes, biting down on in and breaking it with his teeth. Serene.

The doorbell rang.

He walked down the stairs to let John in.

Running a hand gloved in black leather through his ruffled blond hair as he lowered his helmet, to then bite down with his teeth on the worn glove to pull it off, the man standing in front of him, smiling, his eyes a provocative glint, was simply perfect.

"John. Do come in."

He closed the door noticing how at ease John was entering his home, setting his helmet and gloves on a side table, unzipping his jacket and turning to seek permission to climb the stairs to Sherlock's rooms.

"Please." He gestured for him to climb up first and followed.

A sure stride. And a much tighter pair of jeans than last time. He couldn't suppress a grin.

This time when he helped John take off his jacket he made sure he stood just a tad too close, leaned down a bit, ran the tips of his fingers very briefly over the edges of the jacket, over John's exposed neck and wrists.

He was rewarded with a blush and several shivers. Perfect.

"Please feel at home here John. Anything you might need, just ask."

And daring, gorgeous John pushed for more.

"Anything?" He leaned down to take off his boots.

Unable to help himself after long days of waiting Sherlock pulled him up and kissed him passionately, hands on his waist and lower back, tongue eager, lips hungry. John.

After more indulgence than he'd planned to allow himself he pulled back and looked into those open blue eyes.

"Have you had dinner?"

John giggled. "Are we seriously going to have dinner first?"

For a briefest moment he lost his composure and fearing he might expose himself, his own apprehension, Sherlock kept silent.

John blinked and cleared his throat. "What I meant to say... It has been a long week." He sighed and lowered his chin and eyes. "I'd hoped we might..."

They were both eager and Sherlock was now beyond fear and certainly long beyond unnecessary tension. He wrapped his hands around John's face.

"It has been a long week. For both of us."

He pulled back. He needed to calm down and continue their evening properly, as he'd prepared.

"Let's sit down and talk for a moment."

He brought glasses and a bottle of sparkling water on a silver tray from the kitchen, taking his time to pour as John nervously settled into one of the armchairs.

"You've agreed to stay here until Sunday." Sherlock sat in the armchair opposite.

"Yes." John nodded.

"You are free to leave any time John. Free to leave now if you wish." He waited.

"I'd like to stay." John had lost his initial ease but was clearly determined to continue, his knees apart, one elbow on the side of the armchair. Resolute.

"Good. Very good. This gives us some time together. And I'd like us to get to know each other better." He set his glass down on a side table and leaned back in the armchair, crossing his legs.

"This will include meals. And rest. And time you may wish to spend apart."

John sat up, hands on thighs.

"I understand. And I am ready."

"John. You are impatient." He took a pause. "And so am I. Very much so. But am not a callous man. We will discuss some things first."

"Of course." He relaxed a bit, leaned back slightly into the armchair.

"I asked if you'd like to eat first because it is obvious you rushed here. I'd say a difficult day at the lab, then briefly home, quick shower, shave? Your hair is still damp. You arrived without a bag."

John ran his hand self-consciously through his hair once again. It was endearing. And at the same time it drove Sherlock to the edge of arousal.

He took a slow breath and continued. "I doubt you had more than a sandwich at lunch, if that. And it is important to me you are well and able to enjoy our time together." He took his glass and drained the rest of the water, then set it back. "John, we have time. I am not watching you faint from exhaustion tonight."

John simply closed his eyes and lowered his head. He spoke slowly but steadily.

"It has been a long week. Please." In contrast to the suggestive stance at the door, John now humbly asked for him.

Sherlock watched him carefully for a moment. He'd planned to discuss ice play, spanking, and much more. He wasn't sure John was capable of composed deliberation at this point. Or that a sexual encounter was at all a priority.

He spoke softly. "John, if you want something to stop you will use the word 'stop'. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Please, please." The man needed him. And he was determined to honor him. One more deep breath.

"Come to me." He gestured with his hand.

And John simply dropped to the floor on all fours with an exhale, burying his fingernails into the carpet, and came to press his face against one of Sherlock's knees.

He'd been truly blind, thinking only he was lost in need. 

A long week indeed.

He spread his legs, pulled in and cradled John between his thighs, reaching with his hands to cradle John's neck, run fingers into his hair, brush his cheeks. He leaned down and whispered against John's cheek.

"Oh, my beautiful boy. You bring me so much joy. I will take care of you."

John whimpered.

Sherlock settled him close and leaning down kissed the back of John's leaning head, his neck, and through the damp shirt his shaking shoulders.

"I will take care of you."

John sighed openly against the fabric of his trousers, whole body relaxing. Sherlock reached further down to bring up one of John's hands.

Curling the smaller hand in his he brought the knuckles to his lips, his other hand settling firmly on the back of John's neck.

They stayed like this for a long while.

How had he allowed things to get out of hand? He had planned and prepared, but his estimates were off.

Fearing he might be caught out in his desire he'd stuck to devising a promising script of their interaction and had fully neglected to take into account that John too may be more invested than a carefully executed scene or two.

But of course he'd known.

He'd feared. But no longer.

Sherlock pulled John up onto his lap and cradled the short, shivering, incredible man in his embrace.

"You are mine. Only mine. I will take care of you John."

John's breath stuttered into a sob against his shoulder. Not words. Just breath.

He'd not only rushed over. He was clearly tired, hadn't slept well for at least two nights, hungry. And hungry for affection.

Sherlock felt protective. 

He gently held John close to his chest and ran one hand over his back. Denying himself this pleasure for the past six days he'd denied John, too. He'd left him at unease, uncertain about Sherlock's commitment to their relationship, and clearly yearning to be cared for.

Well, sensual titillation was not the extent of what he could provide for this exceptional man. And he was not shy to show it. He kissed one temple softly. 

John was calm and pliant in his hands, breathing steadily, probably unaware one hand loosely held the lapel of Sherlock's suit jacket.

An hour passed in warm embrace, tender kisses, reassurance.

John finally shifted slightly and looked up.

"Thank you."

He couldn't resist kissing him on the lips.

"This brings me great pleasure, John, you must understand that."

John nodded.

"Now, how do you feel about a glass of wine?"

"That'd be nice, yes."

Sherlock helped him up and took him by the hand to the kitchen.

John stood at the table and watched while Sherlock took off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then poured two glasses of red wine from a heavy decanter and brought a platter of meze from the fridge.

"Something to go with the wine."

It was a beautifully arranged plate of rice-stuffed vine leaves, several kinds of olives and cheeses, small stuffed pastries.

Sherlock took his glass in hand and leaned to smell the wine swirling it in his glass. They touched glasses and took a first sip. The wine was excellent, and watching John taste something he chose for him was somehow satisfying. He stepped closer and pressed a brief kiss into those lips.

John closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at the food with a sheepish eye and a thought occurred.

"Why don't we take this to the sitting room."

Soon they were settled on the sofa with the wine and food on the table in front of them.

"Would you allow me to indulge a little?"

"Anything." That reckless grin was back. John was reassured and relaxed.

"Really? Anything?" Oh, John, you have no idea.

Sherlock smiled and pulled him closer almost bringing John onto his lap, his hands braced on Sherlock's thighs, then reached for the glass.

"Take a sip." He watched as lips touched glass and tipped a bit of wine into John's mouth, then waited for him to swallow. Then kissed him again, with a bit more need this time. No reason to hide how much he wants this. John's lips now also tasted of the wine, the combination was intoxicating.

He reached to the plate and took an olive, the oil dripping down his fingers.

"Try this." Sherlock brought the olive to John's lips, watching as they parted, a glimpse of tongue, and pushed it gently into that attractive mouth, the tips of his fingers lingering on the lips.

Watching John bite on the olive he then brought the fingers to his own mouth to taste the oil.

Next he choose a pastry, biting half of it himself and feeding the other half to John.

They continued like this, small bites of food, licks of tongue, sips of wine, kisses. It felt incredibly intimate, erotic. 

He traced John's lips, smearing them with oil.

Oil dripped as John leaned forward to suck on his fingers, eyes closing, small sighs. Was he aware his hands were kneading Sherlock's leg? 

All of it was quite arousing but they had time, he was not rushing this.

Bites and licks continued. John shifted slightly, perhaps uncomfortable in his tighter jeans.

Pushing one finger into that eager mouth Sherlock leaned in and sucked a bruising kiss low onto his neck.

John moaned loudly.

He waited until John calmed down enough to open his eyes and take another small sip of wine. He was blushing wildly.

"I am enjoying this very much."

John whispered. "Is it not... demanding?"

Was he embarrassed? "John, I take pleasure in meeting your needs. All your needs."

Another agitated shift. What was John so reluctant to ask for?

"I had... been so impatient..."

Oh.

"Should we work on your patience?"

A hopeful expression and small nod.

Just perfect.

"There is no rush tonight. We can finish our wine and rest." He slid a hand down to grasp John's constrained erection with just a bit too much force. "And in the morning I'd like to discuss discipline play."

John groaned, his whole body trembling. He took the hand away.

"In the morning. We'll finish our meal now."

He continued feeding small bites of food and lingering touches. John responded appreciatively and they took their time.

Sherlock fed him one last sip of wine and wiped his hands on a tea towel.

He manoeuvred John gently to lie down with his head in Sherlock's lap, facing him. John was clearly at ease now. If very aroused. And certainly the food and wine had helped. To ask to be denied, how exceptional.

He looked up to meet Sherlock's eyes and smiled brilliantly, lazily. Then with a satisfied hum snuggled under the hand brushing through his hair.

Sherlock felt deep affection. He carded his fingers through John's hair, scratched gently at the back of his neck, his shoulder, arm.

"You are so lovely. Perfect for me."


End file.
